Oh tabla!

Like a thunderbolt, you strike a chord!b d p t are your letters…and the occasional l.

Your voice is guttural and basic – even primordial.
When you first strike you speak of the birth of planets and space – not like a foot falling on a moist forest floor but a god yielding the whip over the horse of creation.

Your chaotic dribble is the hustle and bustle of this life.
You’re not high-strung or plucky (except for that occasional l).

Like a slap in the face is your palm strike,
Not glossy and sharp but matte and dull in timbre.